


we'll turn to light

by terrasper



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi, Sith Obi-Wan, Slavery, eventual OT3, implied slavery, more tags as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 17:57:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terrasper/pseuds/terrasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seduced to the Light side. How <em>ridiculous</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promise that the "seduced to the light side" will happen in later chapters!
> 
> So instead of working on my other [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6455617/chapters/14773948) I wrote this to get it out of my head and leave me in peace. This is purely self-indulgent.

“Don't flatter yourself, Qui-Gon Jinn,” the Sith spits, teeth bared. “I am not that pathetic Jedi initiate you left on Bandomeer. I did not _fall_ because of _you_.”

The Jedi Master’s face never wavers from its cool expression, and his perfect battle stance, Form IV, Ataru, never wavers either. It fills the Sith with seething, malignant rage. He wants to lunge across the ship hangar and rip away that damned Jedi impassivity, that repugnant, blasted _calm_ , and make the Jedi _choke_ on it. He can feel it in his _teeth_ , the want making his hands tremble until his clenches them into tight fists.

“Then, pray tell, what _did_ make you Sith?” The Jedi's sudden voice jolts him out of thick, smothering fury, and the Sith blinks, and knows. 

Qui-Gon is stalling.

A slow, smug smile pulls at his mouth. The Jedi knows his past already, the lackluster truth of it. What's a little more knowledge? They have time. Whatever trick the Jedi has planned will undoubtedly reveal itself.

“Offworld,” he says, yellow eyes keen on the Jedi's face. “You Jedi never thought of the children you sent away to those barren worlds.” He watches Qui-Gon's eyes flicker, uncertainty flashing briefly over his face. Real or not, the Sith doesn't care. He isn't, after all, in any hurry.

“There is _quite_ a demand for workers in Hutt business. And Bandomeer did, however unintentionally, provide them access to young bodies.” The Sith watches Qui-Gon's face pale and tighten, slightly. “With no attachments and no guardians to contend with, it is quite easy to disappear a child.” The Sith knows that all too well. 

He grins and opens his mouth, to continue hissing accusations, to start shouting, whichever comes first, just as Qui-Gon schools his face into expressionlessness and the hangar’s alarm blares, loud and red. The huge hangar doors screech open, letting in a contingent of armed figures, an unarmed woman, and a little boy. The Sith turns to face them.

The Force clings heavily to the child, and the Sith is aware of Qui-Gon bracing himself. His vision tunnels until all he can see is the boy, his heartbeat and his fear thick in the air. He feels air compress under him, his muscles tensing, and he leaps.

He clears half the hangar in a single bound, and rushes towards the child, intent on the kill, lit saber in hand. Its red light colores his vision and distorts it as Qui-Gon rushes to intercept him in a blaze of green. The Sith hears screaming, the soldiers, and the woman and child, but closer he hears the Jedi, Qui-Gon, shouting:

“Obi-wan!” As if he _knows_ him.

But he doesn't.

The Sith tightens his grip on his lightsaber and dances away, circling. Ignoring, for now, the Force dead and the child scrambling to a ship.

He glares at Qui-Gon and snarls, “I am Lord Vacuos.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Thank you all for the kudos and comments! (I will eventually update my other fic I promise!)
> 
> I have no beta so all mistakes are mine. I hope the chapter doesn't feel too clunky (beta'ing oneself is tough)

Vacuos meets the boy again on Geonosis. Or, more accurately, he watches as the boy and the Naboo Senator are dragged to the holding cells, from which they would no doubt be relocated again to join the boy's Master in the arena. Later. Dooku was entirely too fond of dramatics. A tearful reunion of Master and student upon an impending and gruesome death would no doubt tickle his heartstrings. Had anyone asked Vacuos’ opinion (and no one had, hence why he is currently tasked with glorified childsitting) he would have told anyone listening that drawing out the theatrics is likely to come bite them in their collective Dark side arses. 

And, by the Force, Dooku’s obsessions would probably be the blaster they all shoot themselves in the foot with. That old man had never been able to let go of his former padawan. 

Well, he thinks, absently picking sand off his robe, at the very least the possible fallout would give him ample excuse to get off Geonosis. He hadn't thought he'd ever encounter another planet as unpleasant as Ta - 

“Hey! You! Obi-wan!”

Sith Lords do not startle. And this particular Sith Lord does not grimace in aggravation. Vacuos gracefully peels himself off the wall he was slouching against and levels a flat, heavy stare at the glaring face peeking through the barred cell door. 

The boy's anger and worry are a beacon in the Force, and even had he been unaware of Qui-Gon's acquisition of the so-called Chosen One, the boy's presence in the Force is unmistakable. A dead giveaway. No need to identify the corresponding Master to find him. That the Jedi Council had relented and even allowed him a Master was surprising.

Musty old codgers and their outdated, wasteful kriffing - 

_That’s quite enough of that_ , he thinks, steering his thoughts away from any possible bitter reminiscing of the past. _Glare like you mean it_.

Vacuos knows that most species find his eyes disturbing, especially when he forgoes blinking, and so he stares a little harder at the boy, hoping to make him squirm, or look away, but the boy holds his gaze, blue glaring into burnished yellow. The boy’s jaw is clenched and his skin is flushed from his earlier struggling against the Geonesian guards. The Force positively _pulses_ from him, fading into the rock walls and rushing towards Vacuos, where it sinks into the dark of his presence. The boy notices, of course. How could he not? Vacuos must feel like a gaping void in the Force. Hungry, devouring. His mouth curves slightly as the boy bares his teeth and visibly bolsters his mind shields. 

Vacuos idly wonders how much more of this tension the boy can withstand before he bursts a blood vessel, and is about to voice the thought when a voice cuts through the charged silence.

“Ani, he's baiting you.”

Huh.

To his credit, Vacuos definitely _does not_ stand frozen and bemused as the Senator comes into view, wedging herself alongside the boy to glare at him too. Compared to the boy’s strong Force signature, hers is infinitesimally small. Almost imperceptible. Weak enough to pass as Force dead, and easy to overlook. The thought sends an unexpected pang through him, as he looks at her round face through the bars. He’d forgotten about her, absorbed as he’d been with wordlessly antagonizing the boy. He had experience with being overlooked, and though she most likely _did not_ feel overlooked, he had enough bitterness and unresolved issues for both of them. Enough for his fool feelings to decide he had some sort of _kinship_ , borne of shared knowledge, with her. 

Foolish. But not as foolish as zoning out every time he is even remotely in these _children’s_ presence. First Naboo, now _this_.

 _Get a grip on yourself, Vacuos_ , he thinks furiously. He lets his placid demeanor fade, expression hardening, intent, cutting words ready on his tongue, and says, 

“ _I'm_ baiting _him_? I haven't said a word yet and he's already calling me all sorts of names! The Jedi _never_ -” 

...oh for fucks _sake_.

They both goggle at him, wide-eyed, flummoxed, as his mouth continues without checking in with his brain.

“- and I suppose that _wretched_ kriffing _Qui-gon_ is the one who _told you_ that _name_ \- “ 

Satine had once likened his presence to water. Placid and hiding the dark of its depths. Whether she’d meant his penchant for lulling enemies into complacency before gutting them or the impassive face he used as a lid over his _feelings_ , he does not know. But oh, if she could see him now, she would laugh behind a graceful hand. Or guffaw gracelessly. What are friends for.

The boy and the Senator are still watching him spit venom with mingled surprise and fascination when a small contingent of arena guards bustles into the holding cells. He shoots them a look and ends his tirade with a snarled huff as the guards move around him and towards the prisoners. The guards have to pin the boy to the floor to cuff him, while the Senator merely gives them a scathing look as the Geonesians haul them out of the cell. 

Vacuos glares at them all, face thunderous. 

“Erm, Lord Vacuos?”

Vacuos whips his head around. A green Geonesian starts and fidgets nervously under his stare, but bravely says,

“Your ship is ready.”

Abruptly, the tension bleeds out of him. He closes his eyes and sighs. “Thank you. Now go. Go watch the executions. Place a few bets, have a few drinks.” He cracks open an eye to watch the messenger go rigid and blank.

“I will watch the executions. Place a few bets. Have a few drinks,” they repeat woodenly, eyes unfocused, before ambling off. To the arena, presumably.

Vacuos watches them go, and then turns his attention to the squadron of guards escorting the prisoners. The boy has been pushed to the front of the party, but the guards holding the girl lag behind, backs exposed. Vacuos sighs again, palming one of his lightsabers. He knows the pouch on the Senator’s hip contains some lockpicks, but lockpicks are hardly a weapon against a nexu. Or whatever other creature in the arena.

 _Thinking of aiding an ally of the Jedi, Vacuos, really? That’s not really Sith-like_ , he thinks to himself, morosely. _You don’t know either of them. In fact, you spent the last ten minutes making a fool of yourself because of three little words. And ‘my feelings told me to’ is not a good reason._

“Through passion, I gain strength. And so, a Sith is passion,” he mutters to himself. Twisting the Sith code to suit his needs, like generations of Sith before him. “Through victory, my chains are broken.” _I do what I want_ , he thinks, wryly. And saunters after the guards.

He hides his presence, a void and then nothing, padding whisper soft among the guards. He reaches the Senator, opens the pouch with a sliver of Force and slips the saber in it. He knows she will feel the difference in weight immediately, but the guards will not. Right on cue, she jerks to look behind her, and stares right through him, brows furrowed. The guards grumble and pull her back on track, as the gates to the arena screech open and sunlight floods the dark. 

Vacuos watches, from shadows deeper in the cells, as the two are lead to the boy’s wayward Master, and bound alongside him. He is confident, for whatever Force forsaken reason, that today is not the day the boy and the Senator die.

But. He is certain that Bantha poodoo is about to rain from the skies, and he does not want to be there for that. 

With a last glance at the arena, he turns and makes for his ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So the fic started out very serious, but I figured some humor would be nice. I also picture Obi-wan-not-a-Jedi as a right mess. Vacillating between calm and...er, not calm. Hope you like it too! 
> 
> There will be more obianidala in later chapters (I just wanted to get TPM and AotC out of the way).

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking to name Obi-wan after hunger, because I picture him as pretty starved (emotionally and all that), but I settled on empty, hence Vacuos.


End file.
